Wake up his brain - Send Donald Trump to the Library

Does it surprise anyone that the Trump Administration and Republican Party have submitted a zero budget request for the Institute for Library and Museum Services? Just listening to Trump speak for a few minutes lets you know the man has likely not read a book since he was assigned a book report in high school. I'll bet he can't remember the last time he visited a library.

I visit my local library – the Washington County Library in Woodbury, Minn. - at least once or twice a week, especially during the winter. To begin with, I love books; I recently checked out Joe Schmit's Silent Impact. But my favorite library also offers a lovely environment with its skylight, indoor water falls and live green trees, plus a blazing fireplace. The coffee shop is nice, too.

Best of all, I love children. I live in a seniors apartment building, so it's a pleasure to visit my second home where lots of kids are happily following their parents around who are helping them select age- appropriate books. During my library visit the other day, I paused to speak to a woman who had her four- or five-year old son in tow. I was telling her I loved being around young children when her son suddenly reached out to shake hands with me! Mom's eyes widened in surprise at her offspring's graciousness; just one of many priceless moments I've experienced at my favorite library that I've been visiting for quite a few years.

Later on that day, as I sat at my table near the water falls, sipping my coffee and paging through Joe Schmit's collection of heartwarming stories, I felt deeply grateful for my local library for giving me a refreshing respite from life in a seniors building. And I'll be taking two or three books home with me to read in the evening hours instead of watching the usually boring programs on TV.

Hmm, maybe we should all write to President Trump and suggest that he start visiting his local library and actually read a book? Shouldn't our elected officials exercise their brains now and then, or is that too much to ask? I'll bet they'd be less likely to recommend cutting the funding for these wonderful public resources.

Solitary Confinement?

It's a stretch, I know, but the weather lately here in Saint Paul, Minn. has reminded me of stories I've read by former prisoners of war who have endured solitary confinement for days on end. Snow-covered and icy roads have prevented me from getting in my car and driving anywhere; the latest weather news warns of more hazardous driving yet to come.

Obviously, the comparison between my circumstances and the solitary confinement of prisoners does not hold up. For one thing, I live in an apartment building, and my neighbors and I frequently get together in the main community room where we enjoy one another's company. And I remain connected to the outside world! In the morning, I turn on my TV for news and weather; the Today Show also provides a few entertaining moments.

Here at my laptop, it gives me chills to receive information that someone in China has read my latest post. Cell phone in hand, I can keep in touch with family and friends and along with email, I can pay my bills and otherwise manage my life; for example, I recently ordered my groceries online to be delivered tomorrow evening. (Delivery drivers are somehow able to negotiate snow-covered and icy roads that keep me confined.)

It has occurred to me as I write this that confinement is one thing, but yet another aggravation has been the loss of independence; I sorely miss being able to jump in my car and make a Target run to replenish my supply of Tylenol; yes, this is headachy weather!

But then I check my calendar: February will soon be half over, and Spring begins in March. And those of us who reside in the upper Midwest can rejoice in the knowledge that in a few weeks, the weather will turn; the five or six inches of snow on the ground will melt; and wildflowers will burst into bloom along the roads we travel.

In the meantime, I plan to stay in touch by phone and email with family and friends, socialize with my neighbors, exercise daily – walk the halls, climb the stairs, etc. – find books to read in our apartment building's library – and maybe even do a little writing.

Preparing for Another Arctic Blast

Dear Katalusis readers,

It's 9:00 A.M. on Tuesday, January 22, 2019, and I've just checked out today's weather forecast for Saint Paul, Minn. The current temperature is 15 degrees Fahrenheit. The National Weather Service warns of 3 to 5 inches of snow with 20-25 miles per hour winds, “which could cause some blowing and drifting snow as well.”

The report also mentioned the advent of an Arctic blast later on in the week. A native of Ohio, a state that boasts a more moderate climate, I've been a resident of Minn. for many years; however, I've still not fully adapted to predictions for “Arctic blasts.” And I've learned from experience not to tempt fate by hitting the roads in bad weather.

After reviewing the latest forecast and still in my long flannel nightgown, I ventured forth to the kitchen and checked out my supplies; three loaves of bread and lots of peanut butter and jelly, the makings for Sloppy Joes, several frozen dinners, sandwiches, etc., plus a dozen oranges and some cubed muskmelon. I'll survive for a few days, I concluded.

My physical well being assured during this latest winter advisory in Minnesota, I noted that I had on hand a couple of volumes of Reader's Digest's Select Editions that I grabbed from my apartment building's library; Select Editions offers some good stories, welcome relief for us reader types, when illness or bad weather prevents us from getting to the neighborhood library or the local bookstore.

Assured of enough food and reading material for the week, I can now relax and appreciate the fact that I've got a darned good excuse to stay home and indulge my appetite for Sloppy Joes and reading for entertainment, not self improvement - intellectually or otherwise - as is often my habit.

Losing my checkbook on New Year's weekend

So a couple of days ago, I reached into my purse to get my checkbook. Not there. A mild state of panic ensued. Where could I have left it? I searched my apartment and used a flashlight to thoroughly search my car. My checkbook was not to be found. And yes, I even checked my purse again two or three times

I called my bank and reported the loss. The bank put a hold on my account, so no one who found my checkbook could forge a check from it. Nevertheless, my nervous system remained activated as I searched the most unlikely places for this record of my bank account information along with several blank checks. Thinking it may have fallen to the floor, I even looked behind my desk and behind the nightstand next to my bed as well. No luck.

This is no way to start a new year, I lamented to myself – my anxiety was rapidly including a lot of self pity. Still, I chose to handle the crisis alone rather than contact family or friends for moral support – why disturb them on a holiday weekend, I thought. It was New Year's Eve when I compulsively looked through my purse again – and there it was, concealed behind an envelope I'd picked up in my mail the other day – “Thank God!” I exclaimed aloud.

It was late evening when I sat down at my kitchen table and enjoyed a glass of wine to celebrate finding my checkbook and the fast approaching new year. And indeed I'm feeling relaxed and happy this morning at 9:36 a.m. on January 1, 2019.

Merry Everything and Happy Always!

The holiday greeting on the bulletin boards in my apartment building during the Christmas season this year read: "Merry everything and happy always." I heard no complaints from any of my diverse neighbors who represent various national backgrounds, races, and religions. I personally appreciated the wish to be happy always, although that's not very likely for any of us.

My son and his  wife came for dinner on Christmas Eve - pot roast and vegetables simmered all day in my crock pot with cheesecake and chocolate ice cream for dessert. We exchanged gifts after our meal, and I especially appreciate the bag that Steve and Nancy gave me. It's large enough to hold whatever book I'm reading to pass the wait time at my medical appointments. My children know me well...

Seriously, my doctor once commented, "Virginia, I've never seen you without a book in your hands."

I resisted the temptation to reply: "Well, Doctor, that's because you're always late for our appointments."

In the meantime, I awoke the next morning to the happy realization that I had nothing urgent to do. I grabbed a book from the library in my apartment building and settled back to relax and read Dan Brown's novel, Angels and Demons.

I read Brown's book, The Da Vinci Code a few years ago, and I've wanted to read Angels and Demons ever since - just never got around to it. I've read the first few pages, and wow! Those demons are truly demonic! I shouldn't have started reading that book before going to bed because I had strange and unsettling dreams throughout the night.

So here I am, the day after Christmas, still in my fluffy pink robe while seated at my laptop. Breakfast dishes on my kitchen counter - I'll get to them later.

Well, at least I slept for about eight hours.

To my dear Katalusis readers, "Merry everything and happy always."

It's about time

 https://www.sootoday.com/local-news/dont-forget-to-turn-your-clocks-back-1109926

I was unaware of the time change until I went online this morning and learned I'd best reset my clocks to fall back an hour – otherwise I'd be out of sync with the rest of my friends, neighbors, and business places, etc. I couldn't help recalling, though, how American Indians once reportedly described Daylight Savings Time as cutting off one end of the blanket and sewing it on to the other end.

That got me thinking about the ingenuity of our time system around the world. Don't expect me to know how it plays out across other time zones, though. I'm lucky to get nudged by my laptop to reset my clocks.

I was okay back in the day when my two children met the school bus each morning, Monday through Friday, in pursuit of their education. One explanation for the time change twice a year was that it made it safer for kids waiting for the bus, which would otherwise arrive before daylight. It was also suggested that depending on the season, it allowed farm kids to get home earlier to help with the chores. Those reasons for resetting our clocks twice a year seemed practical enough, and as we were not a farm family, I didn't question the rationale.

My only complaint regarding Daylight Savings Time is that my stomach has yet to get the message that now we're going to eat either an hour later or an hour before our usual meal time. And it takes my stomach and me at least several weeks to adjust to the change. It's a bigger problem when you're meeting friends for dinner at a nearby restaurant, and your appetite is on the previous schedule.

I failed to mention that DST also messes up our sleep schedules. If you're used to going to bed at 10 P.M. and getting up at 6 A.M., an hour earlier on either end can be disconcerting, to say the least. And your employer won't appreciate it, if on the other hand, you arrive at work an hour late.

The good news is that if you're single and retired – my status – you're free to eat and sleep according to your own dictates. That works for me.

When a good friend moves away

Note: The names in this piece have been changed to preserve confidentiality among my friends and me.

On this final day of October here in Minnesota, it was pitch dark at 7 a.m. Minutes ago, however, the sun broke through, and our predicted high for today is in the fifties. We've had a few potentially nice days lately with sunshine and blue skies, but the wind nearly swept me away a couple of times when I succumbed to the impulse to go out and get some Vitamin D.

The good thing about Minnesota weather is that it can at least temporarily distract you from whatever else is going on in your life; for example, a good friend, Jacqueline, who has lived in my apartment building for a couple of years, up and moved away recently. A few days before her departure, she and I bumped into each other down in the garage, and we enjoyed chatting for a few minutes. I remarked, “We won't be able to enjoy these impromptu visits much longer.”

So it is with lingering sadness that I compose this piece to post on Katalusis today.

Jackie and I were visiting with my friend Meghan a few days ago, who reminded my departing friend and me that we could stay in touch via phone, email, and letters. Well, I know from experience how that goes. My friends Beth in Chicago and Marilyn in Florida do stay in touch once in a great while, but it's been years since I've seen either of them.

The thought crossed my mind this morning that my sadness for my long distance friends is cumulative. My family moved around a lot when I was a child, which meant leaving friends and classmates behind that I had sometimes only begun to get to know.

Still, I remind myself this morning, as I sit here at my laptop reminiscing about them, that even though I may seldom hear from old friends, who have moved away, I continue to be enriched by our time together however long ago it transpired. Each of my friends has contributed to my personal growth over the years in more ways that I can count; thus, they remain an important part of my life.